


The Autopsy

by VampyrePrince



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Horror, Masturbation, Sexual Experimentation, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2018-01-01 19:54:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1047934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VampyrePrince/pseuds/VampyrePrince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock settles in for a late night experiment with Molly's help at the morgue. Unfortunately for Molly, Sherlock takes no interest in her other than for her scientific knowledge. She is still happy to help, however, as they conduct an illegal autopsy. She probably wouldn't have been so willing to help him out if she knew what was really going through his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Autopsy

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this is a bit controversial, but not too terribly so. It involves sexual curiosity sparked by examining a woman's naked deceased body, but nothing overly sexual, and the interest is not in the corpse itself. I am rather desensitized though, so I'm erring on the side of caution. This is another of my dark mood fics, so with that said, enjoy the horror themed Sherlock story :)

It was another late night at the morgue, but preparations had to be made. Sherlock had specifically requested the room after hours, and although Molly found it rather unsettling that he refused to give any information as to why, she complied anyway. She couldn't possibly refuse the man she very much loved deep inside, so she found herself doing whatever he requested of her, whenever it was requested. It was a crazy obsession – he was to her. There were days that she would just stand back and watch him, let him do all of the things she let him get away with just to watch him work. It was painful, but it was a lovely kind of pain that she couldn't live without. At least he was right there, and she could find happiness in that.

Molly jumped as the once quiet room filled with the clang of the metal door, and as swift footsteps approached her as she wiped one of the slabs clean. “Oh! Sherlock, h-hello. Yes, um, everything is in order, I think.” The detective smiled and took his hands from his pockets, removing his jacket and then his gloves.

“Thank you, Molly. Did you receive my other request?”

“Yes. I must admit it's rather strange, though. It was difficult to arrange, but-”

“Thank you, that will be all. I assume it's already arrived?” Molly nodded and brushed her hair behind her ear, smiling shyly at the man of her dreams. If only he would recognize her at least once. “Good. You may leave. Make sure no one can get in. Good night, Molly.”

“May I ask why you wanted this one specifically?” As Sherlock made his way to one of the morgue drawers, he wrapped his fingers around the cold handle, pulling the drawer open and out, gazing down at the black plastic bag covering his soon-to-be experiment. 'Experiment' was his common excuse for simply wanting meddle and play with odd things, which in this case was most certainly the reason. He had never conducted an autopsy before, nor had he ever really gotten the chance to study the insides of a freshly deceased corpse on his own time. He could have done so on many an occasion, but tonight was better than the others. He had been in a dark mood as of late, what with John getting married and the lack of company he had grown used to around the flat. Not to mention the lack of cases from Scotland Yard. He still had a reputation to build back up after the fall and the scandal. 

“Unless you can be of any use, please make yourself scarce-” He paused in mid sentence, then turned to fully look into Molly's eyes, a quick blush spreading across her cheeks. “Molly, you've done a proper autopsy.”

“Yes. Many, in fact.” This brought a smile to Sherlock's lips.

“Good. You may be of some use after all. Help me get this onto the table.” Jumping at the chance to help him, Molly practically skipped across the room to haul the body onto the cold metal surface. She quickly grabbed a cart containing the prearranged surgical tools and two pairs of blue rubber gloves, two face masks, and other wearable equipment. Sherlock snapped on the gloves, neglecting all other wear and unzipped the bag. A stale, sweet smell rushed into the air around them, the inside of the bag still emitting cold. “Now, I require silence unless I specifically ask for your input.”

“Right.” Molly wrapped the face mask around her nose and mouth, slipped on an apron, and then lastly her gloves. She glanced up at Sherlock, smiling at his lack of proper medical wear and bit her lip. Thankfully he couldn't see. His disregard for protocol and quite often the law was one of the many things that she loved about him. It was exciting, but so was this. They could both get into serious trouble for working in the morgue after hours on a corpse that was recently donated to science.

Once the plastic was out of the way, Sherlock smoothed his fingers down the shoulders of the female corpse, trailing them over across her breasts and down her stomach. Molly swallowed hard and looked away. What in the hell was he doing? It was awkward, but at the same time she couldn't help feeling a bit of arousal rising within her stomach. This feeling further intensified as Sherlock's long fingers caressed the small bit of pubic hair between the corpse's legs, then as he ran them along her thighs. Molly cleared her throat loudly and watched as Sherlock lifted his hands quickly from the cold body, taking a deep breath before he shot Molly a sultry stare.

“Scalpel.” His voice was a bit deeper than usual and it drummed beautifully in Molly's ears, her heart rate picking up as she smiled beneath her face mask. 

“Scalpel.” She placed the sterile instrument into Sherlock's outstretched hand, watching carefully as he positioned it near the left shoulder, skillfully running it down at a slant to the middle of the chest, then doing the same to the other side. From the middle he drew the scalpel down, watching with morbid curiosity as the skin popped open and the corpse's insides glistened under the overhead lighting. He paused for a moment to carefully prod at the large intestine, and then ran his finger across the slick organ. 

“Fascinating.” 

“Isn't it?” Sherlock removed his gaze from his fingers and shifted it to Molly. 

“I do remember requesting silence.”

“Right, sorry.” Molly turned her head down, keeping a watch on Sherlock as he continued his explorations. He was completely absorbed in his current project, his hands coasting delicately over the internal organs inside the dead woman's body, his pupils growing dilated as he stared in wonder at the mechanics of the human form. It was almost frightening, the level of intense admiration that was emanating from his gaze. To Molly, however, it was extremely sexy. 

Whereas most people would be completely repulsed or frightened by the look in Sherlock's eyes towards the dead woman, Molly was intrigued. She, herself was admittedly highly interested in the dead – hence why she became a pathologist. She hadn't been very popular in school, high school or Uni, but she had always had a friend in the dead. Often when she was alone in the pathology lab late at night at Uni, or even in the morgue at St. Bart's, she would speak to the bodies she worked on as if they could hear every word. It really had been therapeutic, telling them all of the secrets she could tell no one else, and they couldn't retort back or snitch. She poured all of her feelings out into her work that way.

“Molly.” She jumped out of her thoughts and came to attention.

“Yes?”

“That tray over there.”

“Right.” She passed him the stainless steel tray as he held a human heart in his grasp, staring at it intently and turning it around as he held it into the light. Molly felt the urge to say, 'you can have mine!', but remained silent instead and crossed her arms as Sherlock gently squeezed the red muscle a few times. She did have to admit, she rather enjoyed the idea that he was as fascinated with the dead as she was – although he seemed to have a bit more of a fixation rather than interest. The way he gazed down at the dead woman, the way he poked and prodded the various organs before he began unraveling them... it was almost erotic. 

“Camera.” Sherlock held out a blood-smeared hand, not lifting his gaze from the body on the table. Molly did a double take.

“Sorry, camera?”

“Yes Molly, camera. Left coat pocket” An edge of annoyance crept into his voice as he beckoned with his hand. Molly jumped to and raced over to his coat, taking a few private seconds to breathe in his smell, closing her eyes and imagining him standing there, allowing her to be so close. She managed to snap back into reality soon enough, however, and walked back over to the table, camera in hand. 

“What would you like me to do?”

“Photographs. Micros as well.”

“Okay.” The digital camera beeped with each photo as Molly moved around the table, capturing the various organs up close and farther away until she finally ended the series with a full body shot from various angles. “Good?”

“That will do.” Molly set aside the camera and focused back on Sherlock, who was once again examining the corpse. “Sutures.”

“Right.” She paused as she spotted the heart in the tray. “Aren't you going to put that back?”

“It will serve for an experiment at a later date. Sutures.” Molly did as she was instructed, and stepped back a bit as she watched Sherlock stitch up the body once more. She would deal with the proper procedures later, but for now she would let Sherlock have his fun. 

* * * * * *

“Done then, Sherlock? Anything else I can get you?”

“No, that will be all.”

“Right. Okay.” The two stood in silence for some time, Sherlock finally lifting an eyebrow and Molly fidgeting nervously. “I have to shut everything down so... So I have to stay.”

“That won't be necessary. I will manage. You should be getting home, it's late.”

“Um, well, you see, if it's not done properly I could really get into trouble and-”

“Then if you could allow me a few moments alone I would appreciate it.” Molly took a deep breath, clearly uneasy at the idea of allowing Sherlock any more time to break the plethora of rules that they'd already broken. The detective noticed her hesitance, and made his way over to her, removing his gloves and tossing them in the trash bin. He put on his best act, the usual kind, loving gaze that won her over every time.

“I really do appreciate everything you've done tonight, Molly. I only ask a few moments more, that's it.” He ran his fingers through her hair as she sighed, her eyes going glassy as she ate up every bit of his act. Deep down she knew he was only fooling her, messing with her head and her heart just to get his way, but she couldn't resist. Allowing him access to whatever he needed always meant more moments like this in the future, because he would always come back to her knowing full well he could get his way with a bit of charm.

“O-okay. Whatever you need. Take your time, I'll be in the lab straightening up a bit.” She smiled nervously and left the room, Sherlock's act dropping instantly as soon as he was alone. He strode over to the door, making sure it was locked before turning to gaze upon the body still on the table. He returned to her side, running his now bare hand down the stitches, his fingers once again grazing her belly button as they sunk lower into the nest of dark hair below. He had never felt a woman in this way, a living woman, and it was intoxicating. He was slightly disturbed with his body's reaction, but he ignored the incessant nagging in the back of his brain that was reasoning with him. It was being drowned out by the dangerous curiosity that was creeping to the forefront as his fingers sunk lower, finally reaching the one organ that he hadn't been able to explore yet. 

Sherlock pressed his hips forward against the edge of the metal table, trying to will away the erection that was now embarrassingly visible in his pants. Thank goodness Molly had left when she did. That would have been the last thing he would have wanted her to see. It was already bad enough that she wanted him; he wasn't stupid when it came to matters of the heart as everyone seemed to assume. He knew the signs, the physical sensations, but the feelings were entirely foreign to him. Lust, however, seemed to be a feeling he was all too familiar with. It was a painful, aggravating thing that was difficult to sate at the worst of times, and he knew he wasn't going to be able to walk out of there without doing something about it. 

Blocking out the last traces of reason screaming in the back of his head, Sherlock removed his hand from the corpse's body and unbuttoned his trousers. He clenched his teeth as the zipper slid down, his erection growing to full hardness at the anticipation of what was going to happen. He needed the release now, that amazing euphoric high that nothing else could come close to. He slipped his hands beneath the elastic of his pants and slid his fingers along the hot, soft skin, letting out a deep breath as he rocked his hips forward. He grabbed onto the side of the table with his free hand, opening his mouth slightly in an attempt to tame his breathing. But it wasn't enough. He needed more.

Sherlock slid his pants down just enough to free his erection from the tight material, and wrapped his fingers around his aching cock to feel the tightness he was craving. He moved his hand quickly, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible. It wasn't exactly the most sane of places to get off, but Sherlock wasn't exactly the most sane person on the planet, either. In fact, the idea of tossing off in a morgue didn't phase him in the slightest, and it added a bit of a thrill to it all. This thought process didn't help the matter any. It only made things that much worse – the fact that he was actually turned on by getting off in a morgue. It was bad enough that observing a dead woman's reproductive organs had caused him to be in this state in the first place.

A moan escaped his throat as he leaned against the table, eyes closed and mouth opened just enough to allow his labored breathing. He felt his release coming, it was so close now. His hand was becoming wet as his movements became shaky, his hips were rocking forward again to thrust into his grip that grew tighter as he felt the rush deep within his stomach.

And then it came crashing in waves through his system. He moaned as he tightened his grip on the metal table, his head falling back as he shot semen onto the body lying before him. It was a grotesque image, and one he couldn't bring himself to look at once he realized what had just happened. He eventually opened his eyes and gazed down at the morbid sight before him, watching as the thick, white substance slid down the dead woman's sides and pooled in her navel. All at once his senses returned and he began to laugh. He covered his mouth so the sound wouldn't carry, and he looked away from the mess on the table. He had broken down so easily this time. He usually had more control over his libido than that, but something tonight must have finally defeated him. Most likely the pent up frustration from not taking care of himself in that manner for so long. He would make a mental note to at least get off before going to the morgue late at night for any special projects. At least he wouldn't have to worry about the mess afterward. 

* * * * * * * *

Molly cleared her throat awkwardly as she stepped into the morgue. She had half a mind to ask Sherlock what he had wanted to be alone for in there for so long a time, but she brushed it off and began putting things away. Sherlock grabbed his coat and scarf, pulling on his gloves after and approached the doorway, but not before grabbing the heart in the glass jar filled with formaldehyde. “Goodnight, Molly. I'll leave the rest to you.”

“Goodnight Sherlock.” She smiled up at him and finished zipping the body back into its bag. She had a small bit of cleaning to do before she would be able to shut down the morgue, but it had been worth it. “I hope we can work together again some time. Maybe doing something other than an autopsy.” She blushed. “Oh god, oh no, I didn't mean it that way. I mean... Just, you know, a different experiment or-” 

“Goodnight, Molly.” Sherlock slipped out of the morgue before she could finish correcting herself, and she fell into a terrible bout of embarrassment, wishing she hadn't said anything at all. Although, she would be lying to herself if she were to say that she wouldn't prefer doing other things besides experiments with Sherlock anyway.

~Fin


End file.
